


Here Every Language Is Silent

by enigmaticblue



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you don't know what you've had until it's gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Every Language Is Silent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mcshep_match 2011 for Team McKay, and the prompt "lost and found."

_“We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.”_

 

~Joseph Roux

 

Rodney grips the console in the control room, his eyes on the power consumption readings. They’ve been experiencing fluctuations ever since John sat down to fend off the most recent Wraith attack.

 

Although Rodney’s relieved to be back in Pegasus and in one piece, he’s not at all happy that their return has drawn the Wraith’s attention once again.

 

There’s another power spike, and Rodney tries to redirect as much of it as he can, not wanting to risk it feeding back through the chair and through John.

 

Woolsey’s voice crackles over the radio. “Dr. McKay, sensors are showing that the Hive ship has been destroyed, and the rest of the Wraith are retreating.”

 

Relief makes Rodney a little snappish, and he says, “Yes, yes, I can see that for myself. Thank you.”

 

“Your missiles did the trick,” Woolsey continues.

 

“Since I designed them specifically to take on the Wraith, you shouldn’t sound so surprised.” Rodney sighs. “It’s about time we had a weapon that doesn’t require someone to fly a nuke into a Hive ship.”

 

He glances at John as he says it, hoping the dig would find its mark, only to realize that John’s still reclining in the control chair. It’s lit up around him, and John isn’t even twitching.

 

“Colonel!” Rodney calls sharply. “You can shut it down now.”

 

There’s still no response, and he moves to the chair, fumbling for a pulse, finding it slow and steady under his fingers. “John?” Rodney calls, tapping John’s cheek, trying to get a response, but there’s nothing.

 

Rodney taps his radio and tries to keep the panic out of his voice as he says, “I need a med team down to the control chair.”

 

Jennifer answers immediately. “What’s the problem, Rodney?”

 

“Colonel Sheppard is unconscious, and he’s not responding.”

 

“He might just have passed out,” Jennifer suggests.

 

Rodney rolls his eyes. “Maybe, I’m not a doctor. He’s still _not responding_ , though, and that’s not like him. He flew Atlantis back to Pegasus without any problem.”

 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Jennifer promises.

 

Rodney keeps trying to rouse John, but as the minutes pass, he’s becoming more and more anxious. This feels like a more serious problem than simply passing out; John would have come around by now if that’s all it was.

 

The med team finally arrives some minutes later, swarming around John. When one of them starts to pull John out of the chair, Rodney stops him with a shout and a raised hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Moving the colonel so we can work on him,” she replies. “Dr. McKay, you need to let us do our jobs.”

 

“We don’t know what’s happened yet,” Rodney snaps. “Removing the colonel from the chair now could result in permanent damage. Where’s Dr. Keller?”

 

“She’s dealing with the casualties from the attack,” the medic shoots back. “Dr. McKay—”

 

“Leave him in the chair until you can find a real doctor to look at him,” Rodney replies sharply.

 

He can tell she wants to keep arguing, or even to go against his order and pull Sheppard off the chair and put him on the waiting gurney, but she backs off. “I’m going to call the doctor.”

 

“You do that,” Rodney replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

 

He’d prefer to be closer to John while they’re waiting for Keller to appear, but the medics are tightly clustered around him, and there’s nothing Rodney can do. The best he can hope for is for one of the doctors to arrive and diagnose the problem, hopefully without making the situation worse.

 

Jennifer arrives a few minutes later, an impatient expression on her face. “What’s the problem?”

 

“There were energy spikes while Sheppard was in the chair. I hadn’t heard anything from him for the last five, maybe ten minutes,” Rodney began. “And he’s not responding at all.”

 

Jennifer’s impatience melts away when she shines a penlight in John’s eyes. “Pupils are nonresponsive,” she murmurs.

 

Rodney watches as she runs through a few more tests, and then she steps back. “We need to get him out of the chair and back to the infirmary,” she announces.

 

Rodney is uneasy. “Maybe we should wait,” he suggests. “I can run some tests.”

 

“I want him in the infirmary,” Jennifer replies firmly. “As his doctor, I think it’s my call to make.”

 

Rodney hesitates. “Jennifer—”

 

“Rodney, let me do my job. You were the one who called me down here.”

 

Rodney backs off. “Of course.”

 

He can’t quite put his finger on why he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to move John, but he watches the medical team transfer John to the gurney with a great sense of foreboding.

 

~~~~~

 

“What do you mean, he’s not there?” Rodney demands some hours later when he stops by the infirmary to check on Sheppard’s progress.

 

Jennifer sighs. “Rodney, I don’t know what to tell you. Colonel Sheppard’s autonomic responses are still functioning. He’s breathing on his own, but there’s no brain activity. The best way I can describe it is that Colonel Sheppard is gone.”

 

Rodney scrubs his face with his hands. “He was in the control chair when this happened. Maybe something interfered with the connection. Maybe—”

 

“That’s more up your alley than mine,” Jennifer says, interrupting Rodney’s line of thinking. “I’ll do everything I can for him, but I have no idea how to treat him when I don’t know what happened to cause this in the first place.”

 

Rodney squares his shoulders. “Then I’ll find out what happened.”

 

“Good luck,” Jennifer calls, but Rodney doesn’t bother to respond. He just heads straight for his lab and starts going over all the data from the control chair and the attack.

 

He’s not terribly surprised when Teyla and Ronon show up less than an hour later.

 

“We heard what happened,” Teyla says. “Do you have any other news, Rodney?”

 

“Not yet,” Rodney replies. “I’m looking.”

 

Ronon slaps him on the shoulder, nearly causing Rodney to lose his footing. “We got all the Wraith off the city.”

 

“Well, that’s a relief,” Rodney replies a little sarcastically, his anxiety making him short-tempered. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to work now.”

 

“Good luck, Rodney.” Teyla touches his arm briefly. “If anyone can bring John back to us, it’s you.”

 

Rodney appreciates her faith, but he’s none too sure that he’s going to bring John back this time.

 

~~~~~

 

The next few weeks are a blur of work. John being out of commission somehow adds up to twice as much work for Rodney, and that’s on top of all the repairs the city needs as a result of the long journey back to Pegasus and the attack by the Wraith. On any given day, Rodney has half a dozen emergencies to deal with, and he isn’t able to make nearly as much progress in discovering what caused the chair to malfunction.

 

He sees Jennifer only in passing, or during an occasional dinner, but Rodney is functioning mostly on coffee and power bars. When he sleeps, it’s only for a few hours at a time, and he doesn’t give much thought to his girlfriend, or to sex, or anything other than Atlantis and John and fixing what’s broken.

 

Looking back, Rodney knows he should have seen it coming, but he always has a hard time seeing the end of a relationship when he’s right in the middle of it.

 

Most of the time, Rodney has a hard time seeing the beginning of a relationship; for some reason, it’s always a surprise.

 

~~~~~

 

Four weeks after they lose John to the chair, Rodney rubs tired eyes and reaches for a cup of coffee that turns out to be empty.

 

“Rodney.”

 

He glances up, surprised to see Jennifer standing there; he hadn’t even heard her approach. “Hey.”

 

“You need to get some sleep,” she insists, and it’s not anything he hasn’t heard recently.

 

Rodney shakes his head and looks away, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. “I’m close. I know I’m close. Once I can piece together why he couldn’t disengage—”

 

Jennifer cuts him off. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

 

“I just need a little more time!” Rodney protests, straightening, but still not looking directly at her. “It’s just—” He finally meets her eyes and sees the sorrow there. “Oh. You’re not talking about Sheppard.”

 

“No,” she says softly. “I’m not.”

 

Rodney scrubs his face with his hands, leaning back in his chair. He wants to protest, but he’s too tired to find the right argument to convince her to give him a second chance. Right now, he’s not even sure he _wants_ a second chance.

 

Jennifer’s rejection hurts badly, but Rodney is more relieved than anything else, grateful to have one less thing on his plate, one less obligation to fulfill. Rodney knows enough to be aware that it’s probably a good thing that one of them broke things off.

 

“I’m putting through the orders to transfer the colonel back to Earth,” Jennifer says after a long, awkward pause where Rodney doesn’t say anything.

 

He probably should have said something, Rodney thinks wildly. He should have put up at least a token protest.

 

And then meaning behind her words sinks in.

 

Rodney stares at her, panic rising up to choke him. “You can’t. If you do that, we’ll never get him back.”

 

“We can’t keep him here,” Jennifer says sharply. “We don’t have the resources needed for long-term care.” And then, more gently, she adds, “Rodney, I think it’s time to admit that he’s gone.”

 

Rodney straightens, pulling his shoulders back and tilting his chin. “Sheppard wouldn’t give up; I’m not going to either.”

 

“It’s understandable that you’d grieve for a friend,” she says patiently. Rodney recognizes this tone as one she uses when a patient is being unreasonable. He’s pretty sure that all doctors use it when delivering news that the diagnosis is terminal and there’s no hope. “But I think you need to move on.”

 

Rodney bites back the first angry retort, feeling his hands clench into fists. He feels like a rubber band pulled too tight, stretched too thin, and he’s dangerously close to a breaking point. “Don’t tell me I need to move on,” he replies, and he hardly recognizes his own voice, it’s so cold. “He’s not _dead_.”

 

They lock eyes, and Jennifer is the first to look away. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I just need a little more time,” Rodney says, and he’s begging now. “ _Please_.”

 

She hesitates, but eventually nods. “I can give you until the next _Daedalus_ run.”

 

That’s three weeks away, and it’s probably not going to be enough time, but Rodney will take it. He can argue with her again in three weeks. Hell, with Teyla and Ronon’s help, Rodney can probably make sure that John—or at least his body—is never moved back to Earth.

 

“Thank you,” he manages, and she nods, still not looking at him. “Jennifer—I’m sorry.”

 

She smiles sadly. “Me, too.”

 

And then she leaves, and Rodney sits back down, all the energy going out of him.

 

Rodney turns back to his computer screen, but the lines of code blur before his eyes, and he slumps over his worktable, resting his forehead on his arms.

 

He’s well aware that half the city thinks he’s crazy, and he can’t blame them. Everything that makes John _John_ is gone. His body is being cared for in the infirmary, and Jennifer has theorized that Sheppard’s brain got burned out during his last stint in the control chair, and there’s no calling him back.

 

But Rodney knows that if he can just piece together what went wrong, there might be a chance of reversing the process, and he’s not nearly ready to give up hope, no matter what anyone else might think.

 

Rodney just wants his friend back, and while Jennifer had been sympathetic for the first couple of weeks, she’d become impatient when Rodney didn’t slacken his search for a way to bring John back. She’d become unhappy with how little time Rodney was spending with her, and with how much time he’s put in the lab, working on something she thinks is a lost cause.

 

There are people on Atlantis who understand; people who know that _team_ means _family_ , and who supported Rodney’s search as long as there was a smidgeon of hope. Teyla and Ronon get it; Rodney thinks that Elizabeth might have, too, if she’d still been around.

 

Rodney can’t help but think that no one would have expected him to bounce back if he’d lost Jeannie or Jennifer, but far too many people seem to think that since John had “just” been a friend, Rodney should accept the loss and move on.

 

He’s not about to do that.

 

“Hey.”

 

Rodney is pulled out of his thoughts by Ronon’s quiet greeting, and he raises his head from the table slowly. “Hi.”

 

“Brought you a sandwich.”

 

Rodney smiles as Ronon deposits the wrapped offering in front of him. “Thanks.”

 

Ronon pats him on the shoulder, his large, heavy hand a comforting weight. “You should get some sleep. You look like shit.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Rodney says, trying to infuse sarcasm into his voice, but it’s a weak effort. “You’re not the first person to say that.”

 

“Must be true then,” Ronon replies, leaving his hand on Rodney’s shoulder for another moment. “You’ll think better with sleep.”

 

Rodney sighs. “I probably will. Thanks.”

 

Ronon nods and leaves, and Rodney eats his sandwich slowly, frowning as yet another ping from Atlantis’ private IM shows up. He doesn’t recognize the name, but whoever keeps messaging him is a persistent son of a bitch. They’ve been trying to contact him for the last couple of days, but Rodney doesn’t have time.

 

He doesn’t have any time at all to spare these days.

 

Maybe tomorrow, he’ll respond and tell whoever it is to fuck off, but right now, Rodney’s going to take Ronon’s advice, and he’s going to sleep.

 

At least, he’s going to try.

 

~~~~~

 

He wakes up the next morning with only a few minutes to spare before the staff meeting, which means he barely has time to throw on a clean uniform and jog down to the conference room. He listens with half an ear as Woolsey updates them on the latest events and missions, knowing that Teyla and Zelenka will fill in the blanks later if he misses something.

 

During the meeting, Rodney gets half a dozen more notifications from the same person who’s been trying to message him. He frowns, wondering why the hell whoever it is hasn’t just come to see him in person. Anybody who knows Rodney knows that he _never_ uses instant messaging.

 

Rodney’s _this close_ to telling them to fuck off, but he doesn’t want to antagonize Woolsey, who will be the one to decide whether or not to keep Sheppard on Atlantis. Rodney has to at least _appear_ to pay attention.

 

When the meeting ends, Rodney puts his head down and leaves the conference room, not really wanting to talk to anybody. Teyla catches up to him, however, and puts a hand on his arm. “Rodney. How are you?”

 

Rodney summons up a smile. “I’m okay.”

 

“I heard about you and Jennifer,” she says softly. “I am sorry.”

 

Rodney stares at a point on the wall, just beyond Teyla’s left shoulder. “I can’t believe the news made the rounds that quickly. Yes, we broke up. Yes, I’m fine. I just want to focus on getting Sheppard back.”

 

“You care for John a great deal,” Teyla says, her tone carrying a hint of suggestion.

 

Rodney turns his gaze to the floor, trying not to let his emotions show. “He’s my friend. I’d do the same for you, or for Ronon. I don’t see why that’s so hard to understand.”

 

“It isn’t.” Teyla pulls Rodney in, putting her hands on his shoulders to draw him closer, touching her forehead to his. “We appreciate all you’re doing.”

 

Rodney breathes in the herbal scent of Teyla’s hair, the sharp tang of her sweat, and he can’t help but hold her tightly.

 

He misses John _so much_ in that moment, misses John’s casual touches, and the way he had always watched out for Rodney, ever since Rodney became a member of his team.

 

Teyla and Ronon watch out for Rodney, too, but it’s not the same thing.

 

“I’m going to keep trying,” Rodney tells her. “But I’ve got about three weeks before they transfer him back to Earth.”

 

Teyla’s eyes widen. “They can’t do that! John will not recover there.”

 

“I already got an extension,” Rodney replies. “They were going to send him back on the next _Daedalus_ run.”

 

Teyla frowns. “John belongs _here_ , with his family, with people who will care for him.”

 

Rodney smiles. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep it that way.”

 

He knows that Teyla and Ronon have been spending a lot of hours in the infirmary, moving John’s limbs so that his muscles don’t atrophy, speaking to him or reading to him. They’re looking after John’s physical form while Rodney tries to find the source of the problem.

 

Not that Rodney doesn’t check in on John. He tries to make an appearance every day to say hello and assure John he’s working to get him back. Rodney doesn’t think it’s doing any good, but he still tries.

 

John would do the same for him. He’s certain of it.

 

Teyla walks Rodney to his lab, and Rodney has received _another_ half dozen messages by the time he sits down and looks at his computer. All of them are from the same person—Atlantis001—and Rodney sneers again. “Very original,” he mutters as he begins to type.

 

 _Look, I’m a very important man, and I don’t have time to deal with you, so GO AWAY._

 

 **  
_Aw, McKay, I had no idea you cared that much._   
**

 

Rodney blinks at the IM, not a little freaked out. For some reason, when he reads the words, he hears John’s voice in his head.

 

 **  
_Rodney, it’s me. John. Sheppard._   
**

 

Rodney swallows and mutters, “Okay, now it’s official. I’ve lost my mind.”

 

 **  
_You haven’t gone crazy. Look, call Teyla or Ronon or anybody you want. They’ll tell you this is real._   
**

 

Rodney isn’t quite ready to risk looking like he’s gone around the bend, and if it _is_ John, Rodney isn’t ready to share him. _It’s really you?_

 

 **  
_It really is. You’ve been ignoring my IMs._   
**

 

 _I didn’t know it was you_ , Rodney protests. _I had NO WAY OF KNOWING._

 

 **  
_You could have asked._   
**

 

 _What the hell happened?_ Rodney types.

 

 **  
_I got lost._   
**

 

Rodney can hear the fear in those words, and that’s probably a mark of how well he knows Sheppard.

 

 _You couldn’t find a way back?_

 

 ** _Not in time_**.

 

“I’m sorry,” Rodney whispers, wishing he’d held out against Jennifer a little longer.

 

 **  
_Buck up, McKay. It’s not so bad._   
**

 

 _You can hear me?_

 

 **  
_I finally figured out how to tap into the security cameras, and the intranet. It took me a little time._   
**

 

 _But you’ve figured it out now._

 

 **  
_I’m smarter than I look. Especially now_   
**   
_._

 

 _Don’t joke about it_.

 

 **  
_What else am I going to do?_   
**

 

 _I’m trying to get you back._

 

 **  
_I know you are. Don’t worry about Keller’s report. It’s never going to reach the right people. They aren’t going to move me off Atlantis, not now._   
**

 

Rodney lets out an incredulous laugh. _You’re that deep into Atlantis’ systems?_

 

 ** _I’ve had a lot of time to figure it out._** Rodney can see Sheppard’s sheepish grin in his head. **_It took me a few weeks just to get my bearings. I think I have the hang of it now._**

 

 _I don’t suppose you know how I can get you back_ , Rodney replies. _Do you?_

 

 ** _That’s your area of expertise_** , Sheppard replies. **_Look, McKay, I know what happened with Keller. I’m sorry._**

 

 _How do you know?_

 

 **  
_I told you, I tapped into the security system. I saw the whole thing._   
**

 

 _Of course you did._

 

 **  
_Look, Rodney, this isn’t so bad. I’m IN Atlantis. In a lot of ways, I AM Atlantis. But I’ll be seriously pissed if my body gets sent back to Earth, and I can’t get back to it._   
**

 

Rodney laughs helplessly and types, _I’ll do everything I can, Colonel._

 

~~~~~

 

Rodney’s not an idiot; he keeps a copy of Sheppard’s conversation, and he asks Teyla and Ronon—and then Woolsey—to read them.

 

It turns out that Sheppard’s been trying to talk to anyone who would listen, but no one had responded to his IMs or emails because they hadn’t recognized the username.

 

 ** _That’s the problem with caller I.D._** , Sheppard jokes. **_Everybody screens their calls these days._**

 

Rodney could have predicted the others’ reactions to the news that Sheppard is still alive in some form. Teyla smiles broadly and immediately asks John if he’s well. Ronon claps Rodney on the shoulder and smirks. Woolsey—to his credit—says, “Well, of course this changes things.”

 

Jennifer looks Rodney in the eye and says, “You were right, Rodney.”

 

As much as Rodney likes to be right—and even more, to be _told_ he’s right—it doesn’t make up for Sheppard’s absence. Communicating with John helps, but it’s not the same thing as having Sheppard with him.

 

During the strategy meeting, while they discuss what to do about Sheppard’s body, now that they know Sheppard is _in_ Atlantis, Sheppard messages Rodney. **_You could put my body in stasis. I don’t think that’s going to affect anything, and there’s no sense wasting resources taking care of an empty shell._**

 

Rodney passes along the suggestion—because John seems oddly hesitant to talk to anyone but Rodney now that Rodney is talking to him—and Jennifer nods. “That would take care of it. I’ve hesitated to suggest it before, because I wasn’t sure there was anything left of the colonel to save.”

 

 **  
_Good thing you thought otherwise, buddy._   
**

 

Rodney doesn’t pass that message along.

 

“What if we put the colonel back in the chair?” Zelenka asks. “Would that work?”

 

 ** _There’s a mental component to activating the chair. I don’t think I can reverse the process from this end, and I’m not_ in _my body to start it on that side._**

 

Rodney reads the message out loud and adds, “Something had to have happened to initiate this kind of transfer. There’s no way that just sitting in the chair could have done this. The chair itself is not designed for this kind of thing.”

 

“Would the Ancients have created a device that would transfer someone’s consciousness like this?” Woolsey asks, his fingers steepled in front of his face.

 

Rodney snorts. “What _wouldn’t_ the Ancients have created?” He gestures angrily. “Remember the exploding tumors? The nanovirus that caused hallucinations? The Ascension machine?”

 

Zelenka straightened. “Wait a minute. Could that be it? Something to help the Ancients ascend?”

 

 ** _Beats me_** , John says. **_I have no idea what the fuck I did to get stuck inside Atlantis’ systems._**

 

“Now that I have a better idea what to look for, I think I can figure it out,” Rodney says.

 

“I will help,” Zelenka says.

 

And finally, Rodney thinks, there’s someone other than him who is looking for a solution to this mess, for a way to get John back where he belongs. He’s relieved, but he also feels as though he’s losing some connection to John, as though he’s giving something up.

 

But then, Rodney has never been terribly good at sharing.

 

Now that word has started to spread that Sheppard is alive—at least in some sense—others want to help. After a week, Rodney has so many offers that he’s turning people away, and so many people are trying to talk to Sheppard over the intranet that there’s a noticeable lag when Rodney asks him a question.

 

There comes a point, ten days after Rodney first answered John’s IM, that John disappears from the system entirely, causing a spate of panicked yelling from Rodney.

 

The message from John appears almost instantly. **_Sorry, I should have warned you. I’m a little tired._**

 

Rodney’s innate curiosity causes him to ask, _Do you have to sleep?_

 

 **  
_Not really. I just needed a break. Too many people keep trying to talk to me. I can’t keep them all straight._   
**

 

That prompts Rodney to send out a citywide email, threatening dire consequences for anybody who puts Sheppard’s continued existence in jeopardy. He gives vent to some of his own frustrations by giving a list of instructions for contacting the colonel—which could probably be summarized as “don’t, unless he contacts you first,”—and detailing what will happen to anyone caught violating those rules.

 

John messages Rodney mere moments after the email goes out. **_You really don’t have to space anybody on my account._**

 

 _I never said I was going to space anyone_ , Rodney replies irritably. _But I won’t have any problem making sure they wind up on the worst duty on Atlantis for a few months. Just say the word._

 

 ** _Don’t worry so much, McKay,_** John says after a long pause. **_This really is pretty cool._**

 

Rodney sighs. “Maybe,” he says out loud. “But it’s not good enough, John.”

 

 **  
_Yeah, well, I miss being able to touch you._   
**

 

And then John refuses to say anything else all day.

 

~~~~~

 

The problem with trying to figure out how to get Sheppard _out_ of Atlantis is that there are a hundred other crises that Rodney has to deal with at any given moment. From the relatively minor—environmental controls in half the city go out for no discernable reason—to the major—a group of renegade Genii managing to get the drop on one of their off-world teams and threaten to kill them unless Rodney fixes some piece of equipment.

 

It’s the last disaster that has Sheppard fretting, because although he’s become rather adept at manipulating Atlantis’ systems, he can’t do anything to help on this occasion, and he can’t back up his team. Rodney arrives back at his quarters afterwards—bruised, and a little bloody from a stray bullet that had creased his arm—to find a terse message from Sheppard.

 

 ** _I_ have _to get out of here, Rodney._**

 

The plea carries with it more desperation than Rodney is used to seeing from Sheppard, and it’s enough to make him hang his head, drawing on the last dregs of energy so he can change into clean clothes and head to the lab.

 

He arrives to find an apologetic message from Sheppard. **_I know you’re tired._**

 

 _I’ll be fine,_ Rodney types back. _Now, let me work._

 

Teyla brings him dinner on a tray an hour later, saying simply, “John said you had gone back to work.”

 

“He doesn’t like being out of the action,” Rodney explains. “I know I’m close, I just—”

 

Zelenka comes rushing into the lab. “I found it!”

 

“You found what?” Rodney asks around a mouthful of almost-beef noodle casserole.

 

“What Colonel Sheppard triggered to cause this problem. As we suspected, it was related to Ascension. They were trying to transfer someone’s consciousness, as an intermediate step.” Zelenka’s glasses are askew, and his hands move wildly.

 

“Can it be reversed?” Rodney demands.

 

Zelenka winces. “Ah, that may present a small problem. It was not meant to be a reversible process, you see. But I think I have a way to work around the system.”

 

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Rodney says, shoveling food into his mouth, knowing that this might be his last chance to eat for a while.

 

“There is another device that permits sharing of consciousness. If someone turns the chair on, activates the original device, and activates the second one, that person may act as a conduit for Colonel Sheppard,” Zelenka replies. He shrugs. “It’s still a long shot.”

 

Rodney glances at his computer and sees the message from Sheppard. **_NO WAY. I AM NOT RISKING ANYBODY ELSE._**

 

“Tough,” Rodney says out loud. He’s already figuring all the possibilities. Rodney has the gene, and he’s curious. If he gets stuck in Atlantis with John, he and Zelenka can work on both ends of the problem at once. There’s no real downside that he can see. “I’m going to do it.”

 

 **  
_RODNEY!_   
**

 

Rodney frowns mutinously. “It’s not your decision. You want out? I’m going to get you out.” He looks at Zelenka. “How long until we can set it up?”

 

Zelenka hesitates. “We will need to get Colonel Sheppard out of stasis, and I think you will need to be well rested, Rodney.”

 

“Tomorrow morning,” Rodney confirms. “Get it set up, Radek. Please.”

 

“Of course, Rodney,” Zelenka murmurs.

 

Rodney finishes his meal, deliberately not looking at his computer, not wanting to see any more messages from Sheppard.

 

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Rodney asks Teyla anxiously once he’s finished his meal.

 

Teyla smiles gently. “I think you are doing what you feel is right. No one can ask more than that.”

 

Rodney is grateful for her words, and for the way she pulls him into a hug. Teyla and Ronon are the people who miss Sheppard most, besides Rodney, and they keep trying to comfort him; they keep taking care of him.

 

“How is Torren?” Rodney asks, realizing he hasn’t seen Teyla’s son in the past week.

 

Teyla manages a smile. “He is well. Kanaan has taken him to be with our people for now, but I will see him soon. I’m certain that he will be glad to see you _and_ John again.”

 

Rodney smiles. “Thank you.”

 

“Let me know if you need anything.”

 

When Rodney gets back to his room, he finally reads the messages from Sheppard, all of them something along the lines of, “I will kick your ass if you try this, McKay.”

 

Rodney hesitates before replying, _What would you do if our positions were reversed?_

 

 ** _It’s not the same thing_.**   
__

_Yes, it is._ Rodney’s fingers freeze above his keyboard, and he adds, _I will do whatever it takes to get you back._

 

He closes down the machine and collapses into bed, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately.

 

~~~~~

 

Convincing Woolsey that he ought to be the one to make the attempt takes longer than Rodney would like. Woolsey is understandably reluctant to lose his best scientist, but Rodney points out that there is no one better qualified, and that he has a better chance at finding a solution from inside Atlantis if he gets stuck, too.

 

Rodney wears Woolsey down through sheer force of will, and he finally says, “Whatever you say, I’m going through with it.”

 

Woolsey could probably order Rodney confined to the brig, or put under guard, but he has apparently learned enough from his time on Atlantis not to argue further. “Very well, Dr. McKay,” Woolsey finally says in his precise voice. “But understand that I won’t approve any additional rescue missions after this.”

 

“You won’t need to,” Rodney replies, although he’s not quite as certain as he sounds. “Thank you.”

 

Zelenka is already set up in the control room, and an hour later, Jennifer wheels Sheppard’s body in on a gurney. “I think this will work better if you’re in physical contact with the colonel, Rodney.”

 

It takes some maneuvering for Rodney to sit in the control chair, and for Jennifer to place one of Sheppard’s lax hands on Rodney’s right shoulder.

 

“Do you understand what you must do?” Zelenka asks.

 

Rodney nods. “Yes, I think so.”

 

He’s only sat in the control chair once before, and it responds to him just as beautifully this time as last. Rodney closes his eyes and leans back, letting Atlantis overwhelm his mind.

 

It’s easy to trigger the transference device now that he knows what to look for. All it takes is one hesitant query to Atlantis, and he feels the separation, the way his mind seems to expand to take in the entire city, all of the knowledge that is suddenly available at his fingertips.

 

Rodney probably would have been lost himself, but he hears John’s voice—or maybe he _feels_ John’s voice. It’s hard to describe.

 

 **  
_Don’t you dare lose yourself in here, McKay._   
**

 

 _I’m not!_ he protests. _I’m right here. Do you have any idea how to get back?_

 

 **  
_I’ve been thinking about nothing else for the last six weeks. Follow me._   
**

 

Later, Rodney won’t be able to describe what it felt like to follow Sheppard through the bowels of Atlantis. He is hard pressed not to be distracted by the information, by all the new input. So much knowledge is at his fingertips, but he’s chivvied onward by John’s sense of urgency, his desire to get out.

 

Rodney slams back into his own body, gasping for air, and then, summoning a fortitude he doesn’t know he has, Rodney activates the second device. He feels Sheppard’s consciousness rip through him, leaving behind scattered memories that Rodney knows aren’t his own.

 

When Rodney opens his eyes again, he’s still sitting in the control chair, and the medical team is working on Sheppard.

 

“Did it work?” Rodney demands as soon as he has his breath back. “Is he okay?”

 

“We’re working on him,” Jennifer replies shortly. “He seems to be showing signs of life.”

 

Teyla and Ronon help Rodney out of the chair. Rodney feels a little shaky, but he thinks that has more to do with information overload than any physical problem.

 

“Are you all right, Rodney?” Teyla asks.

 

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I want to know what’s going on with John.”

 

Ronon hangs on to Rodney until his legs are steady, and then his team members shadow Rodney to the infirmary, trailing behind the gurney carrying John.

 

They haunt the waiting room, waiting for corroboration from Jennifer that Colonel Sheppard has survived the transfer. When Jennifer finally comes to meet them, the smile on her face in confirmation enough.

 

“The colonel is sleeping right now,” she says. “I want to let him rest, but you can visit him tomorrow.”

 

Rodney takes half a step forward. “I’d like to see him, just for a minute.”

 

Jennifer hesitates, but she agrees. “Just for a minute, Rodney.”

 

Rodney makes his way to John’s bed, relieved to find him a little more aware than he had been before. Although the autonomic body functions had been working prior to Rodney’s attempt, there had been no other signs of life. Now, Rodney can see Sheppard’s hand twitching, and the rapid movement of his eyes behind closed lids.

 

Rodney folds John’s hand into his own and squeezes tightly.

 

He’s disappointed when he gets no response.

 

~~~~~

 

The next day, Jennifer intercepts Rodney before he can reach Sheppard’s bedside. “He’s still not awake.”

 

“I thought you said he was fine,” Rodney objects, feeling a sharp stab of fear. “You said—”

 

“I said he was sleeping,” Jennifer replies, cutting him off. “And he’s still sleeping. Our scans show normal brain activity, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes him some time to return to consciousness.”

 

Rodney looks away, disappointed to have to wait longer. He’d been hoping for a quick fix. “Can I see him?”

 

“You should talk to him,” Jennifer replies. “He might be able to hear you.”

 

The problem, of course, is that Rodney has no idea what to say after being told he _should_ say something, and he’s particularly uncertain of what to say to John after what he’s just experienced.

 

Rodney isn’t sure if he knows John better now, of if he’d never known him at all.

 

Finally, he says, “I’m going to expect you to detail every change you made to Atlantis’ systems. And I do mean _detail_. I have no idea how much you screwed up while you were messing around in there, and while I appreciate that there wasn’t another option, and I wouldn’t have said anything while you were still stuck, you’re not anymore. But in order to fix things, you need to _wake up_.”

 

John’s eyelids begin to flutter, and Rodney stands, reaching out for John’s hand. “Hey,” Rodney says hopefully.

 

A faint smile passes over John’s face, and he squeezes Rodney’s hand once before he drops off to sleep again.

 

~~~~~

 

The next couple of days are busy with one crisis after another, and Rodney doesn’t have time to think about what had happened when he’d sat down in the chair, or how it had felt to provide a conduit for John’s mind.

 

He stays up to date on Sheppard’s recovery only because it’s a topic of conversation for everyone, and it’s one of the few subjects—other than the work at hand—that he lets his minions discuss without rebuke.

 

The general consensus is that Sheppard is lucky. He’s already up and moving around, and most people think that he’s going to be released from the infirmary sooner, rather than later.

 

Rodney feels a certain amount of reluctance when he thinks about seeing John again, because he has no idea how John is going to feel, having shared a single body even for so brief a time. So, it’s a bit of a surprise when he finally gets a breather and heads back to his quarters only to find John inside, lounging on Rodney’s bed.

 

Rodney blinks at him stupidly for a moment, and then, in lieu of having anything else to say, demands, “Do you mind?”

 

John grins at him lazily. “I don’t mind a bit.”

 

Rodney looks away, suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that John is _right here_ , in person, and alive and whole. “John…” he says helplessly.

 

“I’m not completely steady on my feet yet,” John admits. “So, if you could get over here, I’d appreciate it.”

 

Rodney suddenly recalls what John had said about wanting to touch, and he sits down on the edge of the bed, within John’s reach.

 

“I’m a little fuzzy on the details,” John says quietly. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened, because it’s—it’s too hard to describe.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Rodney agrees.

 

In fact, Woolsey had been disappointed in Rodney’s report on the matter, since Rodney hadn’t been able to be more specific about what had happened, or what it had been like to be a part of Atlantis.

 

“But thanks for coming in after me,” John says. “I remember that pretty clearly.” His mouth twists into a grimace, and Rodney knows he hasn’t been completely forgiven for going in after John.

 

Rodney doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t I have gone in after you?”

 

“Rodney,” John says, and there’s something in John’s voice that makes Rodney look him in the eye. The hunger he sees there takes his breath away.

 

Rodney swallows and nods, and even though he’s not entirely clear on what he’s agreeing to, it’s a relief when John reaches out. He frames Rodney’s face with his hands, pulling him close for a kiss that’s rough and a little desperate, but still with an edge of sweetness that takes Rodney’s breath away.

 

Rodney freezes, because this is new, and he’s taken by surprise, but when John makes a disappointed noise and backs off, Rodney refuses to let him go. He kisses John again, and there’s a moment when it’s awkward, and their noses bump and teeth clash, and Rodney can’t quite believe that he’s kissing his best friend.

 

And then John tilts his head _just so_ , and it’s suddenly good, so very good, _perfect_ even, and John shoves his hands up under Rodney’s shirt.

 

John’s calloused hands feel amazing on Rodney’s bare skin, and Rodney wants to be closer; he _needs_ to be closer. He wants to recapture that one transcendent moment where he had shared the same skin with John, where he had known John better than he’d ever known anyone else ever.

 

“Shirt off,” Rodney mutters, and John grins against his mouth and complies.

 

They strip each other with fumbling, shaky hands, until they’re both laid bare, and Rodney stares at John’s lean, scarred body with something akin to awe.

 

John flushes. “What?”

 

Rodney touches a scar that runs across John’s right bicep. “I know how you got this. It was in Afghanistan.”

 

“Yeah,” John agrees roughly, his eyes acknowledging what they’d briefly shared, and he touches Rodney’s cheek. “Thanks. For finding me.”

 

Rodney rolls his eyes. “Like I wasn’t going to find you, John. I’m _always_ going to find you. I’m the smartest man in two galaxies.”

 

John smirks. “So I’ve been told.”

 

He pulls Rodney in for another kiss, his hands running over Rodney’s shoulders and arms and sides. Their legs tangle, and for a minute, it feels like they’re working at cross-purposes, pushing when they should be pulling, but then everything falls into place.

 

Rodney wraps his hand around both of their cocks, and their hips find a shared rhythm. John presses his forehead against Rodney’s and grasps his hips.

 

Then they’re both coming over Rodney’s fist, and it’s over almost too quickly.  John is gasping, his arms wrapping tight around Rodney, hanging on as though he’s never going to let go.

 

Rodney hopes he never does, and he presses his face against the side of John’s neck. “Stay,” he urges.

 

“Yeah,” John replies. “Sure. As long as you’ll have me.”

 

“That’s going to be a long time,” Rodney warns him.

 

He feels John’s laughter. “Works for me.”

 

“Yeah,” Rodney murmurs. “This works.”


End file.
